Harry Potter and the Wand of Destiny
by justmarkanthony
Summary: An alternate version of Harry's 7th year, where he actually attends Hogwarts! Loosely follows plot of Deathly Hallows in an alternative timeline.
1. Prologue

Everything had gone horribly wrong.

Professor Dumbledore had died.

Professor Snape had died.

Tonks had died.

Professor Lupin had died.

Fred had died.

Voldemort –she was internally proud of herself for being able to say the name and not stumble and stutter over it like many did, even if she had only said it in her mind, –had announced with his creepy version of a _Sonorus_ charm that he had killed Harry Potter.

This just wasn't the way things were supposed to have turned out. She had slipped away from Ron, the rest of the Weasleys and the Heroes of Hogwarts for a private moment. She noted derisively. If things had gone correctly, she was sure that was the term Rita Skeeter or Dempster Wiggleswade would have coined for those who had stayed at Hogwarts with such slim odds at surviving an encounter with Voldemort. She found herself crouched low behind a rather unstable looking, possibly teetering turret. Pulling her wand out of her pocket, used it to draw in the dirt, calculating as best she could. Her plan required a lot of guess-work on her part, but she knew she was bright enough to figure it out.

"Right then," she said aloud to no one in particular, wiping her eyes and nose on the sleeve of her jacket. "This is it."

"_You know the law, Miss Granger. You must not be seen..."_

Those were the words resounding over and over again in Hermione's head as she pulled the tattered Time-Turner from her beaded bag, which she had stuffed in the waistline of her pants. She could vividly recall the time she had more-or-less, probably less, had practically wrestled Harry outside of Hagrid's hut in their third year to keep him from accosting Scabbers, who had turned out to be Peter Pettigrew.

"This is different though," she told herself. "If Pettigrew hadn't lived, Harry would have surely died in Malfoy Manor. Besides... I... I have to. If I don't, we're all doomed."

She was a brilliant witch. Really. With a pang of sorrow, her eyes clouded momentarily as she remembered the time Remus Lupin had praised her by calling her the brightest witch of her age. Hermione knew the theory behind time travel and what could and could not be accomplished by it. She knew, for instance, that going back could potentially make things emphatically worse. She knew it could make things unbelievably better. She knew, and this was the moment she knew why she had been sorted into Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw, that going back could be the last thing she ever did.

Hermione snorted again. If it was the last thing she would ever do, then she shouldn't be able to do it now, right, because that would mean that she hadn't made a difference at all. On the other hand, she and Harry had created some sort of temporal loop in their third year, as what had happened had already happened. The things she had planned now though must not have happened. That was unacceptable. Something must have gotten in the way. Things weren't going to go along with the plan she had in her head. If they had, surely she would have recognized signs of her own meddling in the past as she had outside Hagrid's hut, right?

Hermione shook her head clear of the thoughts. Time magic was almost as annoyingly imprecise as Divination. If one managed to actually change the time-line, how would he or she get back to their original time-line to record the results? Would he or she just vanish from existence since at some point, the person would find his or her own self at the point where time magic should have been used but wasn't since things were fixed and there was no need for it?

She shook her head again. If she kept thinking, she would never get on with it. With the tip of her wand, she tapped the runic numbers she had drawn in the dirt before pointing at the small dial on her Time Turner.

"_Usquequaque in vicis!"_

The moveable part of the device whirred to life seemingly of its own accord, flipping time and time again over itself as Hermione watched. She remembered the small leaflet Professor McGonagall had given her with the Time Turner.

Should you not trust your mind to keep track of the number of

rotations you've rotated the rotating bit of the rotary

to return to the time you rule as requiring revisiting,

remember the spell to speak that will spin the

spinner specifically to the specified and

desired date, dummy.

Hermione smirked to herself, still curious as to who had been daft enough to write that bit of instruction for something so serious.

The Time Turner stopped humming as the hourglass reached what must have been the higher end of it's near eight thousand and some odd number of rotations needed to send Hermione back to the correct time. It would have taken her an eternity to crank the little dial by hand to get to the appropriate number of turns. As she watched the final revolutions of the dial, Hermione pulled herself out of her reverie and quickly cast the strongest Disillusionment charm she could manage upon herself. Just as the feeling of runny egg slid down the small of her back, Hermione watched with wide eyes as the Time Turner began to glow.

She was unsure of if the sensations from using the time turner were so vastly different now because of the enormity of the span time it was covering was so different from the few hours she had rewound in the past, or if it was because the device knew it was being misused. It may have even known it wasn't supposed to exist anymore considering the fact that Ginny had demolished the remaining stock of Time Turners as collateral damage while escaping an angry horde of Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries nearly two years prior . Either way, Hermione felt as though Grawp had yanked her by the nape of her neck as if she were a kitten and hurled her through the air backwards, all the wile the colors of everything in front of her blended together like pigments coming off of a paintbrush in an artist's murky rinse water.

ooo

Hermione swore under her breath. She had weighed her options and come to the conclusion that it would be best for her to await Harry and Dumbledore atop the Astronomy Tower. She had been clear on the other side of the grounds as far as the path to Hogsmeade was concerned. As far as she could tell, it wouldn't be long before Harry and the headmaster alighted the top of previously mentioned tower. It was absolutely vital that she made contact with the duo. Preventing the death of one Albus Dumbledore had been the whole purpose of this stroll down memory lane after all. It wouldn't do any good to have come all this way back in time only to miss her chance.

Sneaking through the castle proved to be an easy enough task, aside from her having to send a Stunner at that obnoxiously aware Ms. Norris. Merlin, it felt good. Hermione wasn't even one who had gotten into many situations where the pesky cat had foiled her mischief or anything, but she felt required to do so, if not for her own good, but for the DA members she, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna were sneaking around giving a drop of Felix Felicis to. Thinking about it now, she remembered being exceptionally shocked that they had successfully accomplished that particular goal. It was probably best that she had Stunned the cat as really, that cat always did seem to have the uncanny ability to see through Harry's cloak when the three of them had been sneaking about and it was a Horcrux for crying out loud! All Hermione had was her Disillusionment Charm and a mid Notice-Me-Not charm on her person. It was a safety precaution, really.

Coming out of another of her random daydreams, Hermione's heart pounded in her throat. She could see them now. Harry and Dumbledore landed faster than she had expected. This was the part of her plan that needed work. What exactly would she do? What could she do? Jumping out of the shadows with the Dark Mark hovering above the castle with a "Surprise! You're going to die unless you do exactly as I say" speech probably wasn't the best idea. If she waited too long though, Malfoy and the Death Eaters would be there and she wouldn't be of any help at all. Hermione made to move, but she didn't.

She drew in her breath slowly and cried out silently. What was going on? She could look down and see the shimmery outline of her leg just beginning to move. _"No!"_ she cried mentally. Her Time Turner was outside of her shirt, bobbling in slow motion, leaking sand. When had it been damaged?

In the next moment Hermione found herself standing where Harry had been. Malfoy had arrived and was lowering his wand it seemed. Hermione struggled to remember where about Harry had said he had been during this moment and non-verbally cast a _"Silencio!"_ and _"Petrificus Totalus!"_ if only for the fact that Dumbledore looked as though he didn't have the strength to cast either at Harry to keep him safe and prevent him from endangering his own life.

Hermione smacked herself in the forehead. She was a fool. How could she have been so stupid to think that what she did would alter the time-line? Harry had told Ron, the Order, her about the way Dumbledore had cast those same spells on him without moving or even looking at him. It was because he hadn't. She had. She HAD come back. She hadn't made a difference at all. No matter what she did, Dumbledore would die before expected. Hermione felt an overwhelming desire to throw in the towel and just give up. What use could she be? She appeared to be stuck in a slow-down-speed-up loop thanks to her malfunctioning Time Turner. Tears streaked down her face as she realized the futility of her actions. She watched as the Death Eaters appeared and stared blankly into space after Snape blasted Albus Dumbledore off of the top of the Astronomy Tower.

Hermione smacked herself in the forehead. She was a fool. How could she have been so stupid to think that what she did would alter the time-line. Harry had told Ron, the Order, her about the way Dumbledore had cast those same spells on him without moving or even looking at him. It was because he hadn't. She had. She HAD come back. She hadn't made a difference at all. No matter... Hermione blinked the tears out of her eyes. Hadn't she just experienced this? She looked over to the entryway the Death Eaters had come through moments ago and gasped as they appeared as if on cue. Hermione gasped. Before she could even think everything through, she rushed over to Professor Dumbledore at the speed of an iceberg. The Time Turner had slowed her down again. Hermione stood in front of her headmaster daring Snape to use the Killing Curse again. He raised his wand to Dumbledore and fired the number one Unforgivable. At least that was where it ranked in her mind. Hermione blinked slowly and looked down at her chest. The curse had hit the top portion of the hourglass of her Time Turner. It was slowly filtering down with the sand that was slowly leaking out of it still. Hermione knew what she had to do. She spun on her heel and pushed Dumbledore over the ledge, casting _"Arresto Momentum!"_ as they both toppled over the ledge. As the spell flew from her wand, the bottom of the Time Turner had turned completely green. It brushed against her arm and Hermione knew no more.

She spun on her heel and pushed Dumbledore over the ledge, casting "Arresto Momentum!" as they both toppled over the ledge. As the spell flew from her wand, the bottom of the Time Turner had turned completely green. It brushed against her arm and...

She spun on her heel and pushed Dumbledore over the ledge, casting "Arresto Momentum!" as they both toppled over the ledge. As the spell flew from her wand, the bottom of the Time Turner had turned completely green. It brushed against her arm and...

She spun on her heel and pushed Dumbledore over the ledge, casting "Arresto Momentum!" as they both toppled over the ledge. As the spell flew from her wand, the bottom of the Time Turner had turned completely green. It brushed against her arm and...

ooo

_A/N: I wanted to tell a different version of Deathly Hallows. One where maybe Harry was given a little more information and maybe Dumbledore was able to share more information and resources. Don't worry though, Harry won't become some crazy super powered anti-Voldemort. Also, I don't have a Beta, so forgive errors and typos. I'll try my best to catch them all the same though. Oh! And don't worry. No more time travel! It makes my brain cry._


	2. Chapter 1

"Boy! Get your sorry carcass down here this instant!" bellowed Uncle Vernon.

Harry let out an impatient huff and nudged the last owl treat he'd been holding into Hedwig's cage. She ignored it. Harry sighed and muttered an apology to the bird. He had had to keep her on a relatively tight leash since returning to number four, Privet Drive. It had only been two weeks, but for an owl as impatient as Hedwig, it was an eternity. It had been nearly three weeks since Harry and Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts with what was apparently a fake Horcrux. It had been nearly four weeks since... since Dumbledore had somehow survived not only a Killing Curse fired at him by Snape, but a fall that should have ended his life had the spell not been enough.

Harry still didn't understand how he had managed to live through it all, especially in the weakened state the potion in Voldemort's cave had left him in, but he had, and that was the important thing. Despite Harry's protests, Professor McGonagall, who had assumed the role of Acting Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had ordered him to go home so the Order could plan while he was still protected by his mother's sacrifice. He shook his head and headed down the narrow flight of stairs to find his relatives loitering in the living room by the door. He rolled his eyes and waited.

"Uncle Vernon?" asked Harry.

"Sit down!" snapped Uncle Vernon. Harry squidged his mouth to the side and arched an eyebrow. "Please!" added Uncle Vernon. He spat the word out as though it had been wriggling around and his mouth and the only more disgusting thing than that would be to actually let it out.

Harry sat in the chair that he would have called his favorite had there been anything pleasant in his memory associated with the house. He looked from Uncle Vernon, to his massive cousin, Dudley, to his wisp of a woman Aunt Petunia, and back to Uncle Vernon. None of them said anything for the longest moment. Harry was sure that it was so quiet that he would have been able to hear a mouse blink.

"I've decided this is a load of rubbish!" Harry had been expecting that one. His purple-faced uncle was on his feet far faster than Harry would have thought possible for a man of his size. "It's all a rot and claptrap! I've changed my mind. I'm not going to let you and your lot run me out of my own home."

Harry rolled his head back and rested it against the chair and let out an exasperated sigh. He would almost find the scene entertaining if it had been someone else's idiotic family. Uncle Vernon had spent two hours after nearly every meal either packing or unpacking the family car as he changed his mind to either go or stay. The funniest moment by far had been when Dudley had added a large bag filled with the majority of his exercise equipment, including his dumbbells. Unaware, Uncle Vernon attempted to lift it and toppled over into the car's rear with an abundance of swearing and flailing about.

"According to you," sneered Uncle Vernon, "we – Petunia, Dudley, and myself, are in danger. Endangered by – by –"

Harry took advantage of his uncle's dramatic gulp and interrupted.

"Yeah, 'your lot'," Harry made air-quotes after pointing to his aunt, cousin and uncle, "is in danger from some of 'my lot.' That about sums it up."

"Well, it's a load of hogwash," repeated Uncle Vernon, abruptly stopping in front of Harry. "I was awake nearly all night thinking it all over. I _know_ what you're aiming at, boy." 

"Oh? You've got it all figured out, do you? This ought to be good," said Harry.

"Don't you dare take that tone –" began Aunt Petunia in her most screeching voice, but Harry dismissively flapped his hand at her, shutting her down. Her mouth fell open in indignation and she took in a breath to apparently give him a piece of her mind, but she fell quiet once Uncle Vernon started up again.

"This is all an elaborate plot to get the house!" crowed Uncle Vernon. "I must admit, it's a clever bit of trickery from you people, but you won't be hoodwinking normal folk here, no sir!"

"The house?" asked Harry, utterly dumbstruck. "What house?"

"_THIS_ house!" bellowed Uncle Vernon. The vein in his neck appeared to have fallen into sync with the knot that always appeared on his forehead and pulsed with it. "_Our_ house! House prices around here are booming! You want to take this house and turn it into one of your little flim-flam-shazam houses to keep all of your little friends! We'll step through the doorway, the house will vanish before our eyes, and there'll be no record of it even existing! Everyone will chalk up the house numbers going '1, 2, 3, 5' to a screw up some long forgotten bureaucrat made ages ago and it'll be like we've never existed!"

By this time Uncle Vernon's entire head, neck included, looked like an enormous grape. Harry wanted to burst out laughing, but he was annoyed at the same time.

"Have you finally gone mad?" demanded Harry. "A plot to get the house. _This_ house? You can't possibly be as stupid as you look. You ca –"

"How dare –!" shrieked Aunt Petunia, but this time Uncle Vernon waved her down. Jibes about his physical appearance were clearly of a lesser importance in comparison to the conspiracy he had uncovered.

"You're absolutely right," said Harry, his voice as deadpan as he could make it. "I'll just forget about the house my godfather left to me. The one that's at least twice the size of this one and has two more floors to boot. I'll just keep this one for the sake of all of the good times and cheery memories I have here."

No one spoke. Harry thought he had had another incident with accidental magic and had managed to confound his relatives. Either that or Uncle Vernon was actually listening to what he was saying. It had to be the former. If there was anything true about Vernon Dursley, it was that he disregarded Harry and any and everything associated with him, including the words he spoke.

"Fine... well according to you," he had resumed his pacing, "your Lord Folded-Warts –"

" –Voldemort," corrected Harry, "and it isn't a 'claim.' It's fact. We've been through this about a hundred thousand times, Dumbledore told you personally last year that he'd returned. Kingsley and Mr. Weasley explained it as well."

Harry frowned mentally. How his uncle had shuddered at the mention of Ron's dad but not at hearing the name of the most powerful dark wizard in modern times was beyond his comprehension.

"In four days, in case you forgot, I'll turn seventeen and the protective charm that keeps me safe will break. I'll be exposed to Voldemort and his followers. You will be too," explained Harry with a tinge of annoyance. "The Order is sure the Death Eaters will target you, be it to either torture my whereabouts from you or because he's under the assumption that I'll come to rescue you if he holds you hostage."

Harry held his uncle's gaze, then looked to his aunt. The three of them wondered the same thing. What _would_ Harry do if that turned out to be the case? Would he actually go to try to save them? Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked at Dudley at the same time before looking at each other and exchanging a tremulous look. Uncle Vernon slumped back into his spot beside Dudley and hugged his wife and son closer to his body as if that would keep them safe and Harry picked up the dialogue where he had been before he had lost his train of thought, "You've got to go into hiding. You're being offered the best protection there, and it's from The Order no less."

Harry ran his hand through his hair and sat back down in his own chair. He couldn't remember when he had stood up whilst arguing with his uncle.

"Wait! What about your Ministry of Magic?" asked a triumphant Uncle Vernon. Harry merely shook his head at the ruddy faced man sitting across from him for two reasons. The first being that he was shaking off his disbelief, It would be just like a Dursley to put all of his faith into the system.

The second was because of the owl he had received from Ron nearly a week beforehand. "We think – we _know_ the Death Eaters have penetrated the ministry. There was a mass breakout at Azkaban a little over a week ago."

"So?" asked Uncle Vernon.

"So it hasn't been reported in the papers," said Harry. "There's absolutely no way something as massive as that could be covered up by normal means."

"Fine, fine," said Uncle Vernon as he got to his feet yet again. "If that's the case, then I don't see why we can't have the protection of that Kingsley."

Again, Harry would have laughed if the situation belonged to someone who wasn't him. A while back the Dursley had been fit to lose their minds when they had spotted a discreet Kingsley Shacklebolt strolling purposefully behind the Muggle Prime Minister as he made an appearance for a press conference of some sort. Despite the fact that they had never seen him with his earring in, the Dursley had somehow taken to Kingsley from afar. Harry assumed it had something to do with the calming tone of Kingsley's voice coupled with the fact that he had completely mastered the skill of dressing like any other muggle.

"You already know he's taken," said Harry. "I'm sure Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle are more than qualified to keep you out of sight and safe from the Death Eaters." 

"But... there haven't even been any CVs..." whined Uncle Vernon. That was when Harry lost the shred of his patience that had remained until that point.

"Look!" roared Harry, jumping to his feet and nearly crashing into the coffee table as he got in his uncle's face and pointed at the television set. "These 'accidents' aren't accidents at all! The crashes, explosions, collapsed bridges, tornadoes and floods are anything _but_ what they're being passed off as. He's behind them! Voldemort is behind it all. I'd bet every knut in my vault that he's just blindly swiping his paw hoping to catch the mouse. Or mice, since he'd probably take you just as I said earlier. All of the people disappearing and dying? That's _him._ He get's his gang together and they kill and torture Muggles for recreation just as sure as Dudley here will play a video game! Have either of you even noticed how cold it's been for us to be closing out July? The fogs – they're caused by dementors, and if you can't or don't want to remember what they are and what they do, just ask Dudder-Dimples here!"

Dudley's eyes widened in a way that would have been borderline comical had the fear in them not been real. His massive ham sized hands snapped up and covered his mouth as he squealed. He slowly pulled his hands away from his face and looked Harry in the eye and asked, "There are... more of them?"

"More?" Harry snorted derisively. "More than the two that attacked us in that alleyway you mean? Absolutely. There are hundreds, maybe even a few thousand lurking about by now. Taking into account that they breed, feed, and revel in fear and despair –"

"Fine, fine," blubbed Uncle Vernon. "We get it."

"Are you sure?" asked Harry, "because when I ding seventeen, the whole lot of them – Death Eaters, dementors, and probably Inferi – basically zombies, but worse – will be able to find you and they will without a doubt attack you. Add in your track record with outrunning wizards, I think you'll see that you need help from wizards to hide from other wizards."

The Dursleys all reacted together as if they were collectively remember the time Hagrid had crashed through a doorway on a remote island to get to Harry. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon both looked at Dudley together as he ran a hand down his thick backside, ensuring a tail hadn't erupted from the seat of his pants as an effect of thinking of the second worst day of his life. Harry's sudden laugh yanked the family of three out of their collective remembrance.

"What about –?"

"NO!" Harry raged at his uncle, "I can assure you whatever pigheaded scheme you just thought up won't work! Which part are you failing to understand? These people are ruthlessly aggressive. Sixteen years ago they tortured a friend of mine's parents to the point that they are practically catatonic! They didn't even know anything! Voldemort went after enough people until he found someone who caved under his threats and torture and then he killed my parents!"

"Dad," said Dudley in a tremulous voice," Dad –I'm going to go with these Order people when they come."

"For the first time in your life," said Harry, plopping back into his chair and running his hand through his hair again as he looked to his cousin, "Dudley, you're using real words, rather than grunting and pointing, and it actually makes sense."

That was that. Harry mentally dusted his hands. Harry was absolutely positive that if Dudley was going with the Order, terrified or not, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would go with him. There was no way they would let their precious Diddy-Dink-A-Dink out of their grasp if he was in danger.

"They'll be here in a few minutes," he announced after looking over at the clock. He stood and left the room as quickly as possible. What good would it do to sit in the same room with those people after a solid sixteen years of animosity?

Back in his room, Harry looked at his scattered belongings. Actually, he was rather proud of himself. The room had been a pigsty a few hours ago. He sat heavily on the corner of his bedroom and looked around. The walls were still as bare as they had been when he had finally moved out of the cupboard beneath the stairs. It may have been his room, but he still didn't feel as though he should pin posters up to the walls. In fact, the only thing in the room that would have marked it as belonging to him was Hedwig, who was on the perch in her cage with her head tucked beneath her wing. Harry crossed the room and poked a finger through the bars and stroked her back.

"It won't be long now," he whispered.

Harry looked into his trunk again. He hadn't expected it's contents to change, but he couldn't help but admire his handiwork. It had taken the better part of a week, but Harry had cleaned out his trunk completely. He'd discarded an old and worn out sneakoscope, an assortment of broken quills, random potion ingredients, socks the had no mate or had grown too small, and a tired badge that lamely flickered between_ Support CEDRIC DIGGORY!_ and _POTTER STINKS! _Harry had been making considerable progress until he plunged his hand haphazardly into the debris and sliced his finger deeply on a sliver of glass. After cleaning the alarmingly large amount of blood and staunching it's flow from his hand, he returned to the glass and realized that it had actually been a fragment of the mirror Sirius had given to him in his fifth year.

Staring into the smooth surface of the jagged little piece of death, for that was what Harry would have sworn was the secret purpose of all broken glass, he saw nothing more than the reflection of his own bright green eye. Harry had looked closely into the shard of glass, hoping for... he wasn't sure what. In the end, he had thrown it away. While it was the last gift Sirius had given him, it was useless now. He'd seen to that after the debacle at the Department of Mysteries.

Harry swallowed the lump of regret and bittersweet memories. He recalled reading somewhere that dwelling in the past prevents people from living in the present and planning for the future. It was one of the most profoundly true things he had ever heard. He had vowed to live his life in the present and live each moment like his last.

The doorbell rang.

Harry smirked and pulled himself out of his own mind. While he wouldn't be too upset if he never saw his relatives again, he had come to the conclusion that it would be rude to let Hestia and Dedalus put themselves at such a risk on behalf of his family and not acknowledge them. If things went poorly, he would never have the chance to thank them appropriately.

"Harry Potter!" squeaked a tiny voice the moment Harry opened the door. A man as high as Harry's shoulder stood at the doorway, grinning and positively bouncing on the balls of his feet. He bowed before Harry, nearly losing his hideously colored top hat. "It's a pleasure to be of service to you."

"Er, thanks, Dedalus," said Harry, his smile slightly awkward. He turned to Hestia to keep from bursting into laughter at Dedalus's coveralls. "It's really great of you two to do this. I really appreciate it... They're in here, my aunt, uncle, and cousin..."

"Helloooo, Harry Potter's relatives!" cried Dedalus, rushing forward to shake hands with each Dursley. Harry half expected another change of Uncle Vernon's mind at being addressed as such. For a boy of his size, Dudley did an impressively good job of shrinking nearly out of sight at his mother's boney side.

"I see you're all packed and ready to go! Wonderful! The plan, as Harry has most likely told you, is relatively simple," said Dedalus, pulling a pocket watch that was far too large to have just come from his pocket out and eying it. "We'll be leaving before Harry. Due to the danger of using magic in your home – Harry being underage for a few days still, it could provide the Ministry with an excuse to arrest him – we'll be driving ten miles or so before we Disapparate to the safe house we've secured for you. Someone knows how to drive, I assume?" he asked the Dursleys politely.

"Know how to – ? Of course I know how to bloody drive!" spluttered Uncle Vernon.

"Ah! So you have a bit of Harry's smarts! I personally am completely and utterly bamboozled by all of those pedals, buttons, knobs, and levers," said Dedalus.

Harry bit the insides of his cheeks as he watched Dedalus's attempted compliment wash away some of his uncle's confidence.

"As for you, Harry," Dedalus continued, "you will have to wait here for your guard. There has been a tiny change of plans –"

"Huh?" said Harry at once. "I thought Mad-Eye was going to come and take me by Side-Along-Apparition?"

"Yeah... Not so much now," said Hestia, irritation with the situation evident in her voice. "Mad-Eye will explain."

"_Let's move it! Hurry up!"_ screeched a disembodied voice.

Harry and the Dursleys looked around slightly bewildered. Harry nodded his comprehension to no one in particular as he realized Dedalus was looking at his oversized pocket watch again.

"Yes. We'd better get a move on; we're operating on a very tight schedule," said Dedalus, shoving the huge object back into his pocket. "We're trying to time your departure from the house with your family's Disapparition, Harry. That way the charm breaks the moment everyone heads for safety.

"Are we all ready?" asked Hestia. She seemed almost as hawk-like as Professor McGonagall. She kept looking over her should and tensing as if she expected the Death Eaters to burst through a wall at any given moment.

"Perhaps we should go and wait in the hall, Hestia," whispered Dedalus. He was obviously a sentimental one who felt as though they would be intruding on a touching family moment. Harry had no intentions of dragging things out further than necessary.

"There's no need for all of that," he muttered, but Uncle Vernon made the need for further explanation a moot point.

"Well, this would be where we part, boy," he said a bit too loudly. Harry thought he was a bit nervous about going off into parts unknown with people he neither knew nor understood.

His arm reached out for Harry's, but he seemed to have changed his mind and brought his arm back down, making it swing like an oddly fleshy pendulum.

Aunt Petunia nosily played with the clasp on her handbag and made to open her mouth, but Dudley spoke first.

"Goodbye, Harry," he said. He had tears in his eyes and extended his hand. A dazed Harry reached out with his own but found himself in a bone crushing hug instead.

Harry swayed as his feet met the ground and he blinked up at Dudley.

Dudley had just hugged him?

Dudley had just hugged him.

Harry's brain imploded.


	3. Chapter 2

Harry's brain cleared and he stood in the hallway by the front door with a bubble-wrapped box that Aunt Petunia had retrieved from the squeaky stair in the beside him. He blinked absently and wiped away the bit of drool that had collected at the corners of his mouth.

Looking out of his bedroom window, Harry could see the Dursleys pulling out of the drive. Uncle Vernon was in the driver's seat, Hestia riding in the front with him. Dedalus was squished up beside a frumpy yet relieved looking Aunt Petunia. Dudley sat on Dedalus's other side, looking back at Harry. He slowly raised one of his massive hands and waved. Harry smiled ruefully and waved back.

Thirty minutes ago he would have told anyone who asked that Dudley's brain and mouth were separated by a layer of fat to explain his cousin's lack of actually speaking nowadays. Unlike most people, Dudley seemed to talk less as he got older. Harry had assumed that it was because Dudley was away at school as well and had a lot less of one Vernon Dursley in his ear and for the first time, he had to make his own decisions. He had to form his own opinions and act as an individual. Harry pitied Dudley for that one. Although he was severely neglected and should have been taken away from his aunt and uncle, he was stronger than he would have been had he and Dudley been treated as equals. Harry shuddered at the thought as he deposited his trunk, a rucksack, broomstick, and a still-caged-and-angry-about-it Hedwig in the kitchen near the door to the back garden.

Harry absently opened the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of Coke. There were something that the magical world just didn't have he thought, tossing an empty can into the bin. He opened the second and sipped it at a less frantic pace. He took a deep breath and smiled sadly. Seven years ago, he would have given anything to be alone in the house. To turn on the television set and flip through the channels carelessly, sneak a slice of pie, or play one of Dudley's games had been a rare treat indeed. Harry almost longed for those days. It was like remembering the good old days, but they really weren't all that good. Perhaps bittersweet was the best way to phrase it he thought. He toured the house one final time, coming to a stop at the cupboard beneath the stairs. Tugging it open, Harry poked his head in. He couldn't believe how little it was in there. To think that he had actually lived in there like it was a real bedroom! Harry poked fondly at a long legged spider in the corner, no doubt a descendant of the spiders he would wake up and greet each morning until the week of his eleventh birthday.

What a birthday that one had been. Letters addressed to him so specifically he wondered if he had been being tracked somehow by magic. Harry shut the door, re-clasping the latch and looked over to the mail slot. It still bore the scars of the screws and nails Uncle Vernon had used along with a bit of wood to seal it, attempting to prevent any future letters addressed to Harry from entering the house. Harry laughed aloud as he remembered how Uncle Vernon had ordered everyone into the car and they found themselves so far removed from civilization it was borderline crazy. That was where Harry had met Hagrid and discovered the truth about his past. He found out that his parents hadn't been killed in a car crash. They had been murdered by Voldemort himself, and Harry – Harry was a wizard!

At that moment, as if cued by Harry's thoughts, there was a sudden, deafening roar from the general direction of the kitchen. Harry went rigid for a moment before smacking the lights off and racing to the window above the sink. The sun had been gone almost as soon as the Dursleys had left, so the yard was rather dark. The darkness seemed to tremble and Harry would have sworn he was able to see the wind itself. Then, one after another, silhouettes popped into place as Disillusionment Charms lifted. One stood out more-so than any of the others and Harry through the door open. Sitting astride a motorbike with a sidecar, wearing a black helmet and soot encrusted goggles was none other than Hagrid. Harry rushed down into the yard, beaming as people dismounted broomsticks and thestrals.

"Hagrid!" cried Harry. He hugged the very first magical person he had ever come into contact with and known about it. Really, as far as Harry was concerned, Hagrid had been the one who rescued him from a life with the Dursleys and ill treatment.

"Oi! What are we –?"

"Chopped liver?"

Harry turned and grinned at Fred and George. A general round of greetings were tossed out as Harry disentangled himself from Hermione and her ever-all-enveloping hair. Ron gave him a one-armed hug and Hagrid said, "All righ', Harry? Ready fer the off?"

"You don't even know," said Harry, still beaming, taking a mental headcount. "But I wasn't expecting even half this many people."

"Change of plans." groused Mad-Eye, who was dragging two enormous, bulgy sacks. His magical eye was spinning fast enough to make Harry nauseous. "Inside before we discuss any further."

Harry led the party into the kitchen. He couldn't help his continuing smile as he looked around. Ron's tall, slim form was leaning up against a wall; Hermione's hair was tied back into a plait but still manages to be a bushy wreck; Fred and George shared and identical look of mischief; Tonks was struggling in vain to repair a mug she had broken, without magic; Lupin smiled over at Tonks with a look Harry couldn't quite place; Fleur was standing in a way that she was simultaneously being cuddled by Bill, though she was protecting him at the same time; Mr. Weasley was watching Mundungus Fletcher, making sure the latter didn't nab anything while he thought no one was looking; Kingsley sipped the Coke he had accepted when Harry had offered; and Hagrid stooped near the door since standing would certainly leave a hole in the ceiling.

"Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Muggle Prime Minister?" Harry called across the room.

"He'll be alright for one night without me," said Kingsley, taking another swig from the can. "You're more important."

Harry nodded, still slightly embarrassed with the importance everyone put on him. It was a little more than –

"Tonks!" cried Harry, startling the witch, sending the entire mug tree toppling. "Forget the cups, what is that?"

Tonks raised her eyebrows quizzically before smiling broadly, wriggling her left hand dramatically and said, "Why, Harry, I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"You got married?" Harry yelped, looking from her to Lupin.

"We're so sorry you couldn't be there, Harry," Lupin said from atop his perch on the washing machine. "It was very quiet."

"That's brilliant, congr –"

"Yeah, ok, enough of that. We'll have time for a cozy little catch-up party later!" snapped Mad-Eye. Moody prodded the sacks on the ground with his left foot. "I assume Dedalus told you we had to forgo Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, causing a bit of a problem for us. He's made it an imprison-able offense for this house to be connected to the Floo Network. Portkeys and Apparition are out of the question too. Of course, it was all done under the guise of protecting you from You-Know-who. Rather pointless really, seeing as how your mother's charm accomplishes all of that already. All that he's managed to do is make it a bit tougher to get you out of here safely.

"Our second problem is that you're still underage, meaning you still have the Trace on you."

"The what?"

"The Trace!" barked Mad-eye. "The charm that makes it so the Ministry can track and detect magical activity around under-aged witches and wizards! If you or anyone else casts so much as a _Lumos_ , Thicknesse – and by association, Death Eaters, will know about it.

"We can't wait for the Trace to break, because the moment it does, you better believe the moment you turn seventeen, you lose every bit of protection your mother gave you. Basically, Pius Thicknesse thinks he's got you cornered good and proper."

Harry blinked. As far as he could tell, this Thicknesse person was on the money.

"So what do we do?"

"We'll do what they least expect. We'll think like them and slip by the way they would. We're going to use what is left to us. The Trace can't detect broomstick, thestrals, or Hagrid's motorbike seeing as how none of them require active spell-casting."

Harry's eyebrow arched as he saw gaping holes with this strategy; however, he kept his mouth shut, giving Moody the chance to address them on his own.

"Now, your mother's charm will break if one of the two conditions are met. One: You reach the age of seventeen. Two: and this one is the one we'll be exploiting," – Moody lazily motioned around the kitchen with his wand in hand – you no longer call this place home. You and your family are going your separate ways tonight, everyone fully understanding that you'll never love together again, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Right, so this time, when you leave, there's no going back and the charm will break the moment you get out of range. We're choosing to break it early because the alternative is waiting for You-Know-Who to stoop down and nab you himself the moment you turn seventeen.

"The one thing we've got going right now is that You-Know-Who doesn't know we're moving you tonight. We've leaked a half dozen fake trails within the Ministry saying we're moving you sometime between tomorrow and in the dead of night on the thirtieth. On the other hand, this is the most powerful dark wizard the world has known since the fifteenth century, so we can't entirely rely on him getting the date and time wrong; he's bound to have a handful of Death Eaters patrolling the skies around this general area, just to be safe. So, to be safe-_er _we've put every protection we know on about a dozen different houses even halfway associated with Order. Any of them could potentially be where we intend to put you; my house, Kingsley's flat, Molly's Auntie Muriel's – see, all of them have a connection of some sort with the Order."

Harry nodded his understanding of that part of the plan, but remained silent all the same. There was still a massive hole in the plan so far as he could tell.

"You'll be going to Hermione's parents. Once you're within the boundaries of the protective enchantments, you'll grab the portkey, which I believe is a – " he looked to Hermione.

"It's an otter. I thought – "

"Yes, yes. That's what it is. You'll grab the otter and arrive at the Burrow. Any questions?"

Er – yes." said Harry. "Maybe they won't know which of the twelve safe houses we're headed to at first, but seeing fourteen of us headed off to Hermione's?

"Oh, yes," said Mad-Eye, "I did skip the key point, didn't I?"

Harry was sure he had seen Mad Eye wince as he said that last bit. He got the notion that the ex-Auror hadn't skipped it by mistake.

"There will be seven Harry Potters moving through the skies tonight, each with a more than capable guardian each heading for a different safe house in the event that we're seen."

Moody pulled a canteen from one of the sacks on the ground. It was filled with a heavy-looking, muddy liquid. Harry glared at the substance then the man holding it. Memories he'd rather forget forcefully sprang to life in Harry's head. He knew what it was and understood the plan without Moody elaborating any further.

"NO!" he bellowed, his voice rebounding sharply in the small room. "There is no bloody way!"

"I told them you wouldn't be okay with this," said Hermione with an air of not wanting to be right.

"If you lot think I'm going to let half of you stick your neck out there and risk your lives – !"

"Yeah, because none of us have gotten into deep shit with you before," said Ron.

"This is completely different! Pretending to be me –"

"We;;. None of us really fancy it, Harry," said Fred earnestly. "Imagine if something went wrong and we were all stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever."

Not funny.

Not. Even. Close.

"No," said Harry with a tone of finality. "You can't do it if I don't cooperate. You need me to give you a bit of hair."

"Bugger, I guess that means we better go ahead and chalk this one up ladies, gents," announced George. "There is no way that we can get any hair from Harry."

"Why? His name isn't 'Baldy,' it's –"

Ron booed Fred's bad pun.

"Hilarious, really," said Harry.

"Don't think we'll play this game with you, Potter. If it has to come by force, then it will," growled Moody. He glare at Harry and continued, "Everyone here is overage and knows the risks." His magical eye swiveled in it's socket and fixed on Mundungus.

"This is insanity!" declared Harry. "There's no need f –"

"No need!" roared Mad Eye. "With Thicknesse under his thumb, You-Know-Who has half the Ministry under his control at best! If we're lucky he'll have accepted one of the lies we leaked as the real thing and will get through tonight with few casualties, but if he's half the tactician our Weasley is over there" –he gestured at Ron, who was torn between pride and fear of being recognized as a such – "he'll still have a Death Eater or two keeping an eye out until the thirtieth, just in case! It's what I'd do. They may not be ale to get at you or this house as long as your mother's charm holds, but it's so close to breaking we can't even think to risk it. We know they know the rough position of the place already. Our only hope is to use decoys. Even You-Know-Who can't split himself into seven."

Harry caught himself looking to make eye contact with Ron or Hermione, and turned away before he could accidentally exchange any sort of look.

"Now, Potter. Hair, if you please."

Harry looked desperately to Lupin for some support. Instead, he received an upside down smile, which wasn't quite a frown, and a just-get-it-over-with stamped on it.

"Now!" barked Mad-Eye.

For the umpteenth time that day, Harry ran his fingers roughly through his hair, though this time he closed his hand at the end, pulling our several loose hairs. Moody hobbled over to him and un-stoppered the canteen and held it out.

Harry dropped the hair into the potion. The moment it made contact with the surface, the mud-like liquid bubbled and smoked and foamed a bit, then, all at once that stopped, leaving an apple juice colored liquid.

"Ooh! Harry, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle," said Ron, before realizing what he had said. He looked down at the floor, cheeks ablaze muttering, "You know what I meant. Goyle's looked like bottled results of a bat-bogey hex."

"Right then," said Moody, both eyes looking at Ron with a bit of confusion, "fake Potters come and get your gear."

Ron shuffled forward, still looking down. Hermione, Fred, George, and Fleur lined up behind him, in front of Aunt Petunia's spotless sinks.

"One short," observed Bill.

"Righ' 'ere," Hagrid said gruffly, shoving Mundungus toward the line. "Harry, got somethin' fer yeh."

Harry turned his back to his soon-to-be doppelgangers and made his way over to Hagrid, who pulled a small pouch from one of his pant pockets.

Harry cocked his head to the side as he accepted the gift.

"That there's Mokeskin. Can hide anythin' in there an' no one but the owner can get it out."

"Really? That's brilliant, Hagrid. Thanks!"

"Glad the hear tha', there's somethin' else 'bout this one to make it even better. I got Professor Flitwick to add an Undetectable Extension Charm. Don' tell anyone else 'bout it though. Teachers aren't s'posed to give gifts ta students, stric'ly speakin'."

Harry beamed at Hagrid and threw his arms around him. Harry rushed over to his trunk, bag, broomstick and Hedwig. He looked at them all in turn and frowned. He wasn't sure on how exactly he was supposed to fit all of his belongings into the tiny pouch. Hagrid smiled at him and mimed stretching something. Harry looked at the mouth of the pouch and mimicked him.

To Harry's surprise, the opening gave almost as easily as a rubber band. By the time he had managed to get everything except for Hedwig's cage into the bag, the decoys were all stripping down.

"Oi! How about a little more prudence regarding my er – naked?" he finished lamely.

"I knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo!" remarked Hermione, looking down at her bare-Harry chest.

"Harry, how can you see?" asked Ron.

Once Harry was dressed, all seven of him, they all grabbed rucksacks and the six copies all grabbed cages, complete with Hedwig-esque plush animals.

"Right, now to pair everyone off," said Mad-Eye.

Fleur and Bill were on a thestral; Hermione and Kingsley had the other. Ron was with Tonks; Fred was with Charlie; George with Mr. Weasley; Mundungus was with Mad-Eye; They were all on broomsticks of the wizarding variety. Harry was to ride with Hagrid in the sidecar of the motorbike. He had offered to switch places with Mundungus, but Mad-Eye quickly put an end to that discussion before it could start.

"By now, Snape's had plenty of time to tell them everything about you, and more," he said. "The Death Eaters, should we come across any, will be looking for a Potter who looks at home on a broomstick."

Harry secured his mokeskin pouch around his neck before jamming his rucksack and Hedwig's cage into the sidecar between his knees. He was unbelievably uncomfortable.

"Yeh know, Harry," said Hagrid as he snapped on his helmet and pulled down his goggles, "it's been almost six years since I met yeh. Remember it?"

"Hardly," said Harry, a grin on his face. "Didn't you hunt me down halfway across the country, break down a door, and give my cousin a tail?"

"Meh, I forge' the details," said Hagrid. "Did yeh know I was the one – the one who brought you here?"

"I didn't," said Harry. "But it seems fitting that you'd be the one who delivered me to the rest of my life."

Hagrid choked up at Harry's sentiment and patted the boy on the back. Harry nearly flew out of the sidecar, but he smiled up at Hagrid all the same. He'd meant it. It seemed like Hagrid should be the one who would take him from the hellhole, if for no other reason than he had been the one to bring him to it.

"Is this – I mean, this is it? This is Sirius's bike, isn't it?"

"The very same," Hagrid looked as if he was on the verge of an emotional collapse.

Thankfully, Mr. Weasley had pulled up beside them, George in tow.

"Please be careful, Hagrid," he said. "We never got a chance to test any of them. If Molly knew –"

"Everyone at the ready?" called Mad-Eye. "I want everyone airborne at exactly the same time, otherwise the whole diversion concept is moot."

"Hold on tight now, Ron," said Tonks. Harry snickered as Ron threw a guilty, please-don't-hurt-me look at Lupin before placing his hands around her waist.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as the motorbike roared to life. His skin crawled thanks to the vibrations of the sidecar.

"Good luck," called a Harry, which was quickly repeated by everyone.

"On 'three'," shouted Mad-Eye. "One... Two... THREE!"

* * *

_A/N: Don't worry, chapter 3 is where we break away from Deathly Hallows. :) And don't be afraid to review! I won't spam the end of chapters with unending drabble, unless that's what you guys want. Also, this is still beta-less, so please be forgiving if you catch an error that I didn't. (I honestly don't even know to get one: Sad, I know.)_

_-M(A)_


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